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by Zombiiewrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:05:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1458685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombiiewrites/pseuds/Zombiiewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He investigates with a quirked brow and reaches beneath the chair, blindly patting the carpet there until his fingertips graze something all too familiar. He scissors the object between his middle and index finger and pulls back, smiling when his assumptions are confirmed.</p><p>It’s one of Castiel’s feathers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

Dean’s hunched over the driver’s seat awkwardly, rummaging in the foot space of the passenger’s side and gathering the straw wrappers and empty soda cups there. The sun blares down on his back, warming the narrow patch of skin where his shirt has ridden up. He hums along as Zeppelin blasts through the speakers but pauses when he catches sight of something beneath the seat.

He investigates with a quirked brow and reaches beneath the chair, blindly patting the carpet there until his fingertips graze something all too familiar. He scissors the object between his middle and index finger and pulls back, smiling when his assumptions are confirmed.

It’s one of Castiel’s feathers.

Grunting, Dean scoots back off of the seat and out of the car altogether before picking himself up, dusting off his jeans, and snatching up his half empty beer from the hood. He raises the bottle to his lips and leans back languidly against the Impala, eyeing the single feather thoughtfully. 

It’s so delicate in his hands—like bristled, black velvet. He tries to remember how it could have gotten there, recalling only two times where Castiel has unleashed his feathery fury in the backseat of the car. The first time he sneezed in Jimmy’s vessel or that one time he was riding him reverse cowboy and Dean absentmindedly dug his thumbs into his back dimples—a sensitive spot apparently. Needless to say, the quarter windows in the back needed to be replaced both times. 

Shrugging at the fond instances, Dean snaps from his reverie and downs the rest of his Coors. He gives the feather one more considerate look before sliding towards the trunk and popping it open. After a few moments of shuffling through the various toolbox of knick-knacks in the back, he reemerges with a Macgyver-like handful of items. 

If packing bullets and dismantling guns has taught him anything, it’s how to complete tedious and precision-based tasks quickly and correctly. 

Content with the end result, Dean inspects his craft momentarily and smiles to himself as he rounds the back of the Impala again only to settle in the driver’s seat. With one leg in and the other out, he sucks in his lips in concentration and carefully loops the recently fastened string around the rear view mirror and pulls back to admire his handiwork. 

With a thin string weaved into the quill, Cas’ feather dangles from the mirror, hanging proudly over the rattling legos in the vent and the army man in the ashtray.


End file.
